


The Forbidden Dance

by busaikko



Category: due South
Genre: Community: three weeks for dw, Crossdressing, Dancing, Established Relationship, M/M, Trans Character, Transfic Mini Fest, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dancing lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forbidden Dance

  
"I'm afraid I don't understand _why_, Ray," Fraser said. He was standing just inside the bathroom door, casually just standing there, and Ray knew he'd never lean against the doorframe like a normal person. Add to that the way Fraser sounded uncomfortable, and it was almost enough to make Ray want to throw his hands up in frustration. "If I may be honest," Fraser went on, and Ray rolled his eyes, hoping Fraser saw it in the mirror, "you don't seem like someone who'd be secure in experimenting with his gender expression."

Ray was pretty sure there was an insult in there, mostly because while eyeballing Fraser in the mirror he saw the way Fraser's mouth pursed in disapproval.

"I am plenty secure," Ray said, and stopped messing with his eye shadow. He never could get it right, but the more you tried to fix things, the worse it got. He put on more lip gloss and ran wet fingers through his hair to make it stand up.

Back when he'd been with Stella, she used to get a kick out of Ray dressing up. Sometimes she'd slick back her hair, put on his good suit, pin the pants legs so they didn't drag on the ground, and take him out dancing. He'd been able to use Stella's wardrobe, mostly, but he didn't get any of it in the divorce. The dress he wore now he bought himself at Goodwill. It had buttons down the front and a wide belt at the waist and was cheap because the jacket had bleach stains down one sleeve. He threw the jacket away, anyway.

Ray thought he looked pretty good. He grinned at himself in the mirror and headed out to the living room, where Fraser had pushed all the furniture back to the walls haphazard and (it looked like) polished the floor. Fraser trailed after him, practically dragging his feet.

Ray figured he'd probably looked like that when he'd started dancing. Back when he was _seven_. He put the music on and gestured with two hands for Fraser to get his ass over here, already.

"I'll step on your toes again," Fraser said, trying to fix his hands so he could hold Ray while still keeping his distance. They were at the negotiating stage that came when having convenient sex turned into figuring out what they did and didn't want in a relationship. Ray was going out on a limb, here; there was always the risk of being stepped on, mixed-metaphorically.

"I trust you," Ray said dryly. "Do you need to foxtrot a little for, you know, security?" He took a step back, pulling Fraser with him, and then another, and Fraser caught up to him with a very stiffly sarcastic, yet perfect, slide to the side. "See, now, there," Ray went on, reeling Fraser in and not letting him miss a beat, "it's just like sex except there's clothes."

"You need to teach me that dance where I get to throw you," Fraser said, and started -- finally -- to lead.

"Not today," Ray said, and bumped Fraser with his hip. Fraser always started dancing from the feet up: once his feet latched onto the pattern, then his hips might join in, and caught up in the passion of it all there was a faint chance that he would do something daring with his hands, such as touch Ray suggestively, even if the suggestion was that they stop for the day and watch curling on TV. Ray had yet to see Fraser let go enough dance with his shoulders or higher. But it was cool; Ray just wanted. . . this.

When he figured Fraser was getting into the groove, Ray changed CDs, grinning at Fraser's look of dismay for anything Latin.

But Fraser was trying, and Ray kept rewarding him with kisses, on the lips and down his neck, and touching in ways that quickly went out of the dirty dancing ballpark and well into foreplay. When the third song ended, Ray needed to catch his breath, so he put one hand around the back of Fraser's neck to pull him down into a wet open-mouthed kiss, and reached down with his other hand to palm Fraser's crotch. Fraser wasn't packing, so Ray got one breathy spontaneous groan as Fraser shook at the touch.

"You hard for me?" he asked. "Or I have to blow you to get you in the mood?"

Fraser didn't say anything, but he slid his fingers into Ray's hair, got a good grip, and pushed _down_. Fraser's jeans had creases from the iron, and his shorts were starched, but Ray didn't care about anything besides getting them down and off and out of the way. He nearly yanked out the damn tampon string by accident, because Fraser hadn't mentioned that, of course, but he didn't think Fraser noticed. Mainly because Ray got his fingers around the base of Fraser's dick and his mouth on it, sucking lightly.

Fraser's knees started to give way, and the hand in Ray's hair pulled hard for balance, and Ray distantly heard Fraser apologize as he regained his footing. Ray wanted to get Fraser to a place where he lost control of politeness. He used his teeth, little brushes alternating with laps of his tongue, the way Fraser liked it.

"Touch yourself," Fraser said, tugging on Ray's hair again; Ray had the feeling that he was repeating himself because Ray'd been lost in the blowjob zone. Ray reached down with his free hand, popped the buttons open on his skirt, and shoved his hand down the front of his boxers to start jacking off. Fraser had apparently been waiting for that, because he started fucking Ray's mouth, matching the same rhythm as Ray's hand. Which was totally just like dancing, and Ray would have said so, if his mouth hadn't been busy.

Fraser came first, shuddering through orgasm and accidentally kneeing Ray hard in the shoulder, and then dropping down to kiss the taste of himself out of Ray's mouth. Ray managed to say, "Please," but somehow Fraser correctly interpreted that Ray wanted his hand. Fraser was awkward with Ray's dick, Ray being the first guy Fraser had ever slept with as far as Ray knew, but all of Fraser's touches were good. Better than good. Excellent, fantastic, brilliant, and Ray was gone, coming hard; hot, sweaty, sticky, a complete mess of pleasure being held by Fraser, who was still wearing his perfect white t-shirt.

"Nrgh," Ray said, and Fraser said, "Yes, I agree," and let him rest for a full ten-count before pulling him to his feet and propelling him toward the shower.

Fraser undid the rest of Ray's buttons, pulled the dress off, and held it up like a question. Ray pointed at the hamper. He never bought anything that needed dry-cleaning.

"But you don't want to see me. . . like that," Fraser said, giving the dress a look before he dropped it onto Ray's smelly sweatsocks.

Ray shrugged. "If it was your thing," Ray said, "why the hell not?"

"It has never been my 'thing'," Fraser said, enunciating the quotes of disdain clearly.

Ray suspected that somewhere in Fraser's youth, there was an idiot with theoretically good intentions and a pleated skirt with Fraser's name on it.

"Which is cool," Ray said, and started fussing with adjusting the water just right while Fraser worked his way out of his shirt and binder.

"You looked very, ah," Fraser said, and Ray didn't even need to turn around to know he was rubbing his eyebrow. "Good," Fraser said finally. "Not attractive like a woman, but like yourself."

"Well," Ray said, and stepped into the water. "Sometimes I think, if I wasn't who I was, I'd be someone completely different."

He was pretty sure that sentence had gone south, but he figured as long as he couldn't hear Fraser laughing he didn't need to get pissed.

"That's interesting," Fraser said, joining him and making the shower stall suddenly too small. "Often, I feel exactly the opposite."

"Whatever," Ray said, getting soap in his eyes. Fraser handed him a facecloth. Ray didn't even know he _owned_ a facecloth. "So. You up for trying that again?"

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until Fraser said, "Everything except the lambada, Ray," and then Ray had to duck his head to hide his grin.


End file.
